


Trust Me?

by thrilljoy



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: 2 flashback scenes (for context + smut), Dorm Sex, Frottage, Los Angeles, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Smut, alone on netflix, asynchronous story (chapter title gives time and location, college!rhink, dorm!rhink, esther perel, murmansk, pining!Link, therapy!rhett, wilderness!rhett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25759189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrilljoy/pseuds/thrilljoy
Summary: Inspired by ALONE on Netflix. The episode where a contestant has been constipated for days. Fecal impaction can lead to a bacterial infection that overwhelms the body (sepsis). She has a fever she can feel coursing through her. She lays in her sleeping bag and “can’t help but whimper.” She says she’s catching it all on tape anyway - contestants record themselves fighting cold, starvation, thirst and predators, outlasting each other for a chance at $500K - so she might as well record her last wishes...Rhett is on ALONE, doing quite well, actually, until...
Relationships: Christy Neal/Link Neal, Jessie McLaughlin/Rhett McLaughlin, Link Neal/Original Female Character(s), Rhett McLaughlin & Original Character(s), Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal, Rhett McLaughlin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	1. 09:00 PM THURS JUN 18, 2020; LOS ANGELES

**Author's Note:**

> “Ah how shameless – the way these mortals blame the gods. From us alone they say come all their miseries. Yes, but they themselves - with their own reckless ways - compound their pains beyond their proper share.” Homer, The Odyssey
> 
> “You should never, never doubt something that no one is sure of.” Roald Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (Charlie Bucket, #1)
> 
> “[Erotically intelligent] couples see their relationship as something alive and ongoing, not a fait accompli. It’s a story that they are writing together, one with many chapters, and neither partner knows how it will end. There’s always a place they haven’t gone yet, always something about the other still to be discovered.” Esther Perel, Mating In Captivity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link & Christy

Link awoke to the sensation of being jerked to and fro. Christy was shaking him awake. Crap. He’d dozed off. Rhett’s show was on later than usual; pushed back an hour to accommodate another show’s two-hour finale. He couldn’t fight his circadian rhythms. He couldn’t remember a single thing about the night’s episode - he’d likely fallen asleep shortly after the recap. This time of night, he was usually shouting beeps by now. Wait, no, what? Counting sheep. He was usually counting sheep by now. 

“Link, you’re on the remote!” Christy yelled, still shaking him. “Move!”

“Huh … what? No, I’m not… What?” He snapped his head to look up at Christy. Startled a bit by the little avalanche of popcorn that was falling from his chest and pooling in his lap. He chuckled, “You threw popcorn at me!”

Christy did not look amused. “Fucking move! It’s Rhett! Something happened to him!” That did it. Worry zipped through him, propelling his fuzzy limbs into action. His tired bones felt creaky as he shot up and fumbled around in the fuzzy grey throw for the remote.

“I didn’t feel it under me!” 

“Find it!” Christy hollered. There was an urgency in her voice - desperation and a tinge of panic. He’d never seen her like this before.

“M’looking! Jeez, calm down!” He didn’t mean it. Crap. He meant it but he didn’t mean ‘calm down!’ Just like… breathe or something. Maybe he should’ve just said that. “Sorry.” He shut up and reached for her. Surprised, though, when she leapt back from him, dodging his hand. He thought he - no, he did - he saw fire in her eyes. He folded his arms and took a deep breath pausing the rustle and rumble, steadying himself. His eyes were still bleary with sleep and he had to concentrate on focusing on each spot as he roved his eyes over the couch looking for the shape of the freaking remote. They’d just put a cover over the couch to avoid dropping crumbs and other items between the cushions so there were only so many nooks and crannies for the darned thing to hide in now. 

“Do you see anything?” Christy asked. Her voice pitched even higher. 

He didn’t but _something_ told him that wasn’t the answer she wanted right now. He’d been fast asleep - dead to the world - not even two minutes ago! What the heck, what was happening? “Can’t we ask Alexa to pause it… or rewind it... or something?” He asked timidly, half hoping for a ‘yes’ and the other half hoping his question would bring some levity. Christy was visibly upset, this couldn’t just be about the remote. 

“What? No! She can’t do anything about live TV, Link. What the heck. Just - uurgh- find the remote!” She pushed him aside and pulled the throw clear from the couch, sending cushions, trail mix and a not-entirely-empty can of beer flying helter-skelter. 

“Christy! What’s going on?”

“Ugh! Only _you_ would sleep through that!” She was feeling along the folds in the cushion cover now. Link would _not_ be the one to tell her the remote wasn’t there. Her next sentence left him reeling. “Pfft. Rhett confesses his love for you from his deathbed on national television and you’re snoring in the corner. Typical!”

He was stunned; felt rooted to the floor. His legs were cemented, leaden, heavy. He wanted to sit back down on the sofa - wanted to be safely planted on a soft, solid thing - but couldn’t move. Couldn’t muster the body talk he needed to tell his legs to go. He wished he could curl up in a burrito of sheets - as tightly as he could; as close to a hug as he could get without touching anyone else because _Christy_ wanted NOTHING to do with him and the only other person he could accept a hug from was in the freaking Arctic. Or was supposed to be. Deathbed? What? Yeah, yeah, right. “Deathbed?” He mumbled, stupefied. Too weak to manage anything above a whisper.

Christy turned to him, gave him another exasperated _pfft_ and rolled her eyes. Now she was tearing apart the loveseat she’d been perched on. He hadn’t seen her retreat back there. She shoved the smaller couch backward in exasperation, revealing the remote on the floor to Link. Nestled comfortably amid the innumerable shags in the carpet. It must have fallen when she’d returned from making popcorn. No doubt she’d seen him dozing and thrown popcorn and unpopped kernels at him. When that failed to rouse him, she would have grabbed the remote and turned the volume down, chuckling to herself. As the show picked up, the remote would have slipped down silently, imperceptibly, a turncoat amid the shags… and now here they were. But Christy didn’t see the remote. In her mini-mania - needing to physically release her hurt and anger - she was tearing the cushions off the couch. She was bullying the poor thing, honestly. It couldn’t put up a fight. Her laughter when her foot connected with the remote and she registered what it was and what its location meant was heartrending. She picked the remote up and threw it at him. It thunked against the wall behind him and clattered to the floor, the back popping off, sending the batteries rolling in separate directions. 

“SAY SOMETHING!” She screamed.

“Deathbed?” He repeated, maybe a little louder. He didn’t know what else to say. His eyelids drooped, he could feel the corner of his lips sag. His entire head felt heavy, like a foreign object or interloper squatting on his shoulders. He was beginning to feel his blood pumping in his ears. And was it hot in here? 

Christy scoffed, unable to be anything but callous in the moment. For all that his world was upending, his carefully constructed little life unravelling - so too was hers. And she was rearing for a fight. 

The show had pieced together Rhett’s droning fucking soliloquy into something semi-intelligible. The cut was not as clean and clear as the rest of the show - the man had been delirious, near feral, yet oddly serene. Accepting death and the release of a final truth kept hidden and close to his black little heart for all those years. "Selfish man!" She’d been stupid. The only person Link had ever really loved besides his momma and himself was that fucking man. So many things he couldn’t give her because he lavished them on Rhett. So many things they couldn’t do because of, oh - small wonder - Rhett. So many opportunities for a secret, for something to be just theirs - nope, Rhett knew too. _Gotta tell Rhett - he’d love this, would get a kick out of it. Gotta do it with Rhett - they’d promised._ She’d known in her soul she was an idiot, but figured she could give Link things Rhett couldn’t. She’d been a fool; outwitted. “He’s alive.” She spat, truly unable to help herself, her tone venomous. “We would have heard something. That was filmed weeks ago! They wouldn’t sit on something like a death for weeks - that’s deplorable, Link. He’s alive.”

“Ok.” He moped. His breath shallow. So ... not dead. Good. If she was right, Rhett had thought he was on his deathbed, but made it through the night. Not dead. Good, good. But what else? What else happened? There was something else...

“Ok?” Christy sassed, her hand on her hip now. “Ok!? That’s all you have to say to me? Are you KIDDING me!” She threw her hands up. “Ok.” She mocked.

He begged his heavy lids to raise so he could make eye contact with her. Begged his lips to part, for his jaw to drop, to eke out: “Yeah.”

“Link! Your LIFELONG. BEST. FRIEND. CONFESSED! HIS. LOVE. FOR. YOU. On his DEATHBED. What he thought was his LITERAL deathbed! And his last words - his ONLY words - were about you. They were TO YOU! You don’t think you can say more to me right now than OK!?”

“I- I don’t know what to… What - um- what did he say?”

She chuckled, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Snatching her phone off the coffee table and inching closer to him. “Oh what did he say? What did he say, Link? Why? So you can get your story strai-”

Link huffed. This was exhausting. He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes in frustration and exasperation. He was still foggy but this was happening. They were doing _this_ now, apparently. He wasn’t new to this conversation, but somehow he and Christy had avoided it for years. On one of their earliest dates, Christy asked him if she had anything to worry about, he’d said no. That was the truth. He and Rhett were a thing of the past. He was building a future with her in earnest. Somehow he’d wrongly convinced himself they’d outran it. But here it was. He sighed, returning his glasses to their perch.

Her eyes blazed. “Oh fuck you! Fuck you! I’m sorry, am I BORING you Link!?”

“No! I… I...” His hand flew to his head. He gripped a tuft of hair and tugged.

“You what, Link? What!”

“I- I’m sorry.” He staggered toward the door, his fingers found his keys, his toes found his sneakers and he jammed his feet in, socks be damned. He needed out. 

“Link. If you leave now. I swear to God, we’re done!” 

They were done anyway. He didn’t need to rewind, didn’t need to see the footage. Physically couldn’t bring himself to watch it even if forced. Couldn’t watch Rhett babble from what he’d thought was his deathbed. He wouldn’t honor it. The prospect of whatever that footage held wasn't a revelation to Link. This wasn’t a dream come true for him. This was cowardice. Was that fucked up of him? That he thought Rhett was a coward? He _knew_ Rhett was a coward in his bones - but oddly, this was … proof? Poor Christy. She thought he was walking away from her. Walking away from their relationship. Leaving her for whatever Rhett had confessed - and no doubt, promised - on that tape. 

“Link, you leave here and your shit is on the lawn. For the fucking dogs to piss in and for the … coyotes to shred!”

They could have it. 


	2. FRESHMAN YEAR ; NC STATE - NORTH CAROLINA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett & Link, college years

_ Rhett and Link didn’t speak for weeks after that night in their shared dorm room. Link on his knees, begging Rhett to see things from his perspective. How every time their hands brushed, a jolt ran through him and he wanted to lace their fingers together, to snuggle into his neck, to tease his lips along the crook of his jaw, the shell of his ear. To curl into him, around him. To be a ball of warm honey, pooling in his lap, and in his hands. For Rhett to be his and his alone. _

It had started off innocent enough. Their first time in a truly private shared space just for them. They could organize it how they wanted. They could do whatever they wanted. One day Rhett had walked in on Link jacking off at his desk, one leg up on his desk for purchase, chair tipped back, up on his tiptoes, back arched. Rhett’s breath had hitched in his chest, he’d been mesmerized. Struck by Link’s agility, his deep focus, the curve of his back, the heft in his hand, the lazy grip, the tortuously slow stroke. It haunted him: visited him in the shower that night, and in Tory’s bed the next afternoon, and back in his bed the next night. 

Link had been weird even after Rhett let him know he didn’t mind. This whole thing had been Rhett’s idea, after all. Well, he’d pitched something mutual, but Link said he’d been watched, so he should watch. Rhett did not protest. 

The mutual arrangement had come later. After a raucous party, they’d stumbled back into the room. Rhett on his bed - the bottom bunk - Link in his desk chair. They slammed personal pizzas, Cokes and chocolate cake. Link swiped an errant chocolate morsel off the tip of Rhett’s nose and popped his finger into his mouth, as he launched backward - out of Rhett’s reach. Rhett had stared at his lips for a beat too long. Link’s eyes darkened and a sinful smile played on his lips. “See something you like, buddy?”

“Fuuuuuuck,” Rhett had breathed out, voice tremulous and distant. 

“Wow, okay.” Link quirked his eyebrow up in that cocky little way he had.

Rhett pressed his lips together, fighting it. Knowing - despite the fog of a beer buzz - that he was stepping over some kind of line here. “How drunk are you?” He inhaled deeply, stilling himself.

“Been drunk-er,” Link burped.

“Trust me?” He said, in that way he had. Making it a question of following his lead, not in asking if Link did - though he did - trust him. It was Rhett’s way of hiding the real request so he never had to  _ ask _ . So many whoopings he’d gotten from Diane - ‘cause Sue wouldn’t give ‘em to Link - for stuff they did that Rhett made them do. Though the dare was never actually vocalized, the request instead enshrined in a ‘trust me.’ Rhett convinced he held none of the guilt for their antics or Link’s complicity, or Link’s inevitable injury, because he  _ always _ got hurt somehow - up until the thwack of the first lash - because he’d never actually said “let’s jump off that silo,” or “let’s drain the Richardson’s coy pond,” or “let’s sneak into the Nielsen’s pool and drink beers.” Just ‘trust me?’ in that imploring, unyielding, unmistakable way of his. 

Link nodded emphatically, all chin, the tight nod he did when he knew they were doing a ‘Rhett thing.’ A sharp inhale of air through his nose the only sound between them as Rhett undid the button of his jeans, unzipped, and scooted them down - pitching his hips up ever so slightly. He scooched the top of his boxers down just so, slowly palming his dick through the fabric, then pulling it out. His movements languid, casual, as if Link weren’t there, but all for Link’s consumption. Rhett never breaking eye contact with him. Needing to know every sharp inhale, every flutter of his chest, his knuckles white, gripping the armrest of his desk chair, watching Rhett watch him. 

He gave a few long, lazy strokes. He saw Link fight it, but eventually succumb, dragging his eyes down Rhett’s face, neck, down, down, then back up, snagging on his shirt. His tongue flitting from between his lips, wetting then before retreating into the cavern of his mouth, the flash of his canine. “Shirt. Shir- your shirt. Take it off.” Link stammered.

Rhett’s turn to cock an eyebrow. “You take it off.” He challenged, smirking; hooking a foot under the lip of Link’s desk chair and pulling him closer, until their knees touched. Link’s hands trembled as he reached out, but he’d made quick work of the shirt. The effort to not look at Rhett’s leaking cock bobbing between them when he released it to raise his right arm over his head, painfully obvious. “Now yours.” Rhett motioned to Link’s chest. “Off.”

Link complied. Rhett couldn’t help himself and flicked one of his taut nipples. 

“Pants.” Link mirrored Rhett - unbuttoned, unzipped and pulled his long, pink dick out of his boxers and Rhett was overwhelmed again. Like he’d been that day in the doorway. Damn near lost all his nerve right there, eye to eye with all that Link. 

“Should we put something on?” Link asked, throwing his arm behind him, fumbling for his laptop on his desk.

“Sure… Yeah. What do you usually watch?”

Link seemed to shrink, and looked up at him through hooded eyes, searingly blue. “Don’t ask me that. 

They’d made it this far, too far not to see this through. “Ok, no aids. Use your thoughts. Or we’ll use each other. Yeah?” Rhett encouraged. Retrieving a mini bottle of lube from his bedside caddy and squirting a little into Link’s palm.

Link smiled and nodded, finally giving himself a few tentative strokes, then tightening his grip, finding a slow rhythm. Rhett licked his lips, dropped a dab of lube on his cock, loving Link’s face at the site of his dick twitching in response, noticing how his grip tightened a little, how his pace quickened. 

They’d fed off each other, picking up the pace, reveling in the sounds, the stifled moans, continuing to close the space between themselves until they were tip to tip. Link hooking his legs over Rhett’s and pulling himself in closer, their cocks flush. Rhett stretched his hands, his fingers reaching out, circling around Link’s cock, pressing them together along their lengths, and continued his rhythm. Link had been all breath and whines then, arching his back as Rhett kept his steady pace. Rhett putting a little flourish on the upstroke. Link gently rutting his hips to increase the friction and sensations.

The most delicious moan erupted from Link then, from deep in his belly, slow and low, mellifluous. Another one of those moments that would haunt Rhett. He thought that boyish giggle he could elicit from Link time and again was his favorite sound. Now this was - and he chased it hungrily. Like a new toy, he wanted to know what all the buttons did. When he staggered the rhythm, when he squeezed, he staved off his own orgasm for as long as he could, trying to coax Link. “Cum for me,” he begged. “Moan for me,” he pleaded. “Let me hear you.”

“I’m close.” Link whispered, his head thrown back. Rhett snaked a hand behind his neck and righted his head, felt the weight of it in his hand as Link abandoned all control in his singular pursuit for release. 

“I want to see you cum.” Rhett growled. Link’s eyes opened in a flash, the blue piercing, his mouth agape. 

“Uh- I’m cummmmmmmming.” Link’s body stiffened and spurts erupted, coating Rhett’s hand. He was stunned again, raging hard and aroused but needing to take it all in. Another first. Another moment he wanted to simultaneously experience fully yet memorialize perfectly - needing to be both fully present and beyond himself at once. Link coasted, then took over, taking care of Rhett. “Now it’s your turn, Rhett. That feel good, huh?” Rhett blushed under Link’s gaze, his 100% focus, could feel Link searching his face for cues. Link cupped his balls, eliciting a soft whimper. “ Oh you like that huh?” He pulled gently, Rhett’s toes curled. 

“Trust me?” Link asked. The request hit Rhett in the pit of his stomach. As much trouble as they got into when Rhett wielded a ‘trust me,’ Rhett could think of nothing but near-death experiences the few times he’d had to ‘trust’ Link. 

“Don’t.” Rhett breathed. 

Link increased the pace, mock offense on his face. “Rhett, you don’t trust me?” A thumb swirled along the tip and he lost all resolve. He was mechanical when he was alone. There were few things better than a good handjob. But this… 

“I dooooo,” he whined. 

“You know the rules.” He cleared his throat. “Trust me?” He repeated. Rhett could only nod. 

Link scooted off the bed and settled on his knees in front of Rhett. 

“Oh fuck, LinkLinkLinkLinklink…” He knew where this was going. Link always jacked the speed of the train way up and took it damn near off the rails. They were going off the rails. 

Link was on his knees in front of him, licking his lips, his eyes so seeringly blue, intent and earnest. They couldn’t go backward. A ‘trust me’ had to be honored. Link popped those full lips around his tip, sucked and nibbled gently, then took more in, and more, hands circling the base, attending to his balls. There was so much goodness and heat in this moment, Rhett let out a slow, low moan. His body vibrated with it. His will and resolve were crumbling. Link was deft, Rhett squirmed, his toes curled in his socks and he tried to grip the floor, to ground himself. He was putty in Link’s skilled hands and … and… he couldn’t hold back anymore. He was cumming, oh fuck, shit, he was cumming. Link was making him cum. His hands - just recently wiped on some sorry shirt - were in Link’s hair as he bobbed up and down, his rhythm relentless… and he was cumming! 

He pulled Link up into bed with him. And they stayed there until the need to shower and hydrate became too great. Freshly showered, water chugged and snacks located they met back in Rhett’s, Rhett big spoon, Link little.

The next morning they followed their usual routine, breakfast together then separate study groups. Late afternoon saw them back in the dorm. Rhett showered then napped while Link cleaned. Afterward, Link returned from his long shower, minty clean scent, hair damp and grazing his shoulders towel low on his hips as he searched for pajamas for movies and video games.

Rhett cleared his throat, awoken from his nap by Link’s rustling and faint scent of his body wash. He wanted to … never mind. But Link was still looking at him. Right. “You know what movie you wanna watch?”

The next week he did not chicken out. “Can I uh- return the favor?” He asked. And Link coached him through what he liked. Link’s hands on his shoulders and his hair, his voice in his ear, his taste on his tongue. 

They fell into a precarious routine. Link would be in Rhett’s bed if he wanted cuddling, sometimes already asleep, awakening to the warmth of Rhett curling around him. Drunk nights they repeated that first fateful night - chests heavy, moans loud and more confident, Link’s thighs pressed to Rhett’s. And sober encounters were always framed as one returning the favor to the other for last time. 

Beyond their four walls - nothing changed for Rhett. He still saw other girls. But Link slowed, taking it slow with Brenda. Link could frame his pursuit of whatever this was with Rhett as the release he couldn’t get with Brenda. Rhett didn’t give it much thought. It just was. When he thought too much about it his mind did somersaults, his heart hammered and he got worked up, and hard. Very hard. And since he was hard anyway and it was Link’s doing he would text him, “asking for a hand with something.” Their code. 

Before long it was  _ their _ night, their annual tradition. The night that celebrated their first full-night sleepover at either of their houses - not their first detention. There’d been hiccups and false-starts along the way: Cole’s bullying, a wet bed, an argument over something stupid, homesickness. This night celebrated a night with just the two of them, when they’d hit their stride and never looked back. Without fail, they commemorated it every year. Rhett wanted to make this year extra special. There’d been a random house party off-campus, light drinks, dancing. Rhett saw Link flirting with Lizzie, who’d been asking about him. He cornered him in the kitchen. “You can’t leave with her.”

“Why not? I’ll be quick.” Link giggled. 

“No, c’mon it’s our night.”

“Raina’s all over you. You’re telling me-”

“Yup. I am. We’re walking her home, getting burgers and then…” Rhett’s eyes widened for emphasis.

“New plan,” Link snorted, elbowing Rhett. He pressed a finger to Rhett’s chest for emphasis. “You walk her home and I go with Lizzie. I’ll meet you in an hour tops!”

Rhett couldn’t help it, he always tried his best to tamp down the jealousy. Knew he was a tall guy, often had some weight on others, that it didn’t take much more than him breathing to intimidate, and he would have Link back to himself. But this was different - he couldn’t compete with a chick for Link’s attention by intimidating her... “I want you to myself,” Rhett whispered “It’s our night.” He pulled Link into him. 

Their first semester of school was rapidly drawing to a close. They’d be back home before they knew it - staring down the holidays and a January spent apart from each other - he would be traveling for J Term, Link would be doing a Hydroelectrics Fellowship at the Dam… and not to mention Lizzie. Link never really got serious with anyone, but this could be different. 

Rhett wanted to outdo himself, to make this special. This would be one of their last times for a couple months. This wouldn’t be just any old blowjob. He’d looked it up: the gift for the 13th year anniversary was lace. He didn’t have to use a ‘trust me,’ Link was game. One look at the rope and his shirt was off. He knew he would like being tied up, didn’t need convincing. But after they finished Rhett still wanted more. Had clouded his own clear headspace, crowded out the little voice that said he was supposed to be the voice of reason, and pressed on. His mouth slipping lower and lower along Link’s body, listening to Link’s moans for cues. He’d done some research, and knew to press there, and to use lots of lube… and patience and time. He got Link super aroused and mewling then showed him the instructions he’d written for how to prep himself. 

Link returned with his signature smell, his skin soft and damp. His body was so pliant and responsive, and he was always so willing and hungry. Before they knew it, Rhett was inside of him, Link’s legs wrapped around his waist, breath on his lips. And he went for it, caught Link’s lip between his mid-moan and kissed deeply, rocking his hips, sinking deeper into Link, Link arching against him, begging him to speed up, slow down, harder, right there, right there, oh yes, right there. Not wanting him to move, locking him in place, enjoying the fullness, playing with himself, revving up again, wanting Rhett to use him to chase his own pleasure. Again. They held each other, silently until the urge to be apart hit them. They showered and returned to each other, wrapped in each other’s arms, Rhett nestled into Link’s neck, dozing off to a Rick & Morty rerun.

But no, they couldn’t do it again. And no Link couldn’t return this particular favor. Rhett urged them to ‘keep it special.’ But that was idiosyncratic. His maxim was a break in protocol. And the bigger conversation - the one they’d staved off for so long by framing this as just another thing they did for each other and together, and not what it really was - loomed larger and larger the more they put it off. This was not something rife with emotions, they kidded themselves. But this  _ was _ something Rhett was doing with numerous other people though he could have Link anytime he wanted - on demand - for all Link was so horny for him. Why the need for keeping up appearances? Link asked. They didn’t have to tell anyone, or label it or themselves - Link conceded - but did they have to really pretend? In the end they had it - the talk Rhett was not ready for, and the resolution neither wanted but both agreed was best. 

_ Link picked himself off the floor. His bed was less cozy without Rhett wrapped around him. At home over Christmas break he’d sat Sue down at the kitchen table, and told her he had feelings for Rhett. Yes, Rhett knew. No, he didn’t feel the same way. He wouldn’t be around for a while. She’d scooped him into a hug, humming and swaying softly with him as he cried.  _


	3. 09:45 PM THURS JUN 18, 2020; LOS ANGELES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link & Christy

Link heard Christy’s phone alert. He was trying to find his wallet. It wasn’t in the key bowl - maybe he’d left it looped in his backpack? “That’s from Jessie. Did you know he’d broken up with her! Had moved all his stuff into storage. That fucking snake. Did you know, Link!?” Jessie hadn’t been over to watch any episodes of the show with them. She’d given one excuse after the other. Christy hadn’t minded. According to her, they didn’t all always need to do everything together, space was good.

Deep in the front pocket - not in its usual spot - Link felt the familiar ridges of his wallet. He started to pull it out, but thought better of it. Opted to just take the entire backpack - not that he had much choice - his laptop was in there. One less thing for Christy to smash. Something told him to get his passport, vaccination card and emergency cash from the little safe in the back of the closet. He had a sneaking suspicion he’d need them.

“Don’t you want to know what he said? You’re running away from this and you don’t even know what he said!” She yelled to his back as he walked down the steps to the curb, his truck stolid, waiting.

Link didn’t need to watch the footage to know any delirious confession Rhett had eked out on death’s door was nothing, NOTHING, he himself hadn’t said to Rhett before.


	4. 04:00 AM SAT MAY 23, 2020; MURMANSK, RUSSIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett, Murmansk

There was light, and a rhythm. He tried to focus on the choral sound. So there was a choir. Were they singing Hymn of the Cherubim? Welcoming him in? Would he get wings? Could he haunt? His limbs felt like sludge. As he extended his breath deeper into his lungs, feeling his belly rise and fall, the whoosh of air in his nose, and extended his consciousness down and out, he felt a tingle in his limbs. And the crick in his back. And the aural choir of little angels sounded less like haaaaa and more like bip-bip-bip. So many beeps. One, two, three, four - oh that one was shorter. Wait, was he really counting beeps?

Something was scraping his chest. “Sternal rub.” He tried to move away from it, swatted, anything to get away from it. “Responsive to pain.” A voice from above him.

The light was brighter now - warmer, closer, harsher painting the back of his eyelids a fierce shade of red. Though his lids were closed - he realized now - he tried to squeeze them tighter. To block any light from entering. “Open them.” Someone said. “He’s conscious. We’re his welcome committee…” Yes! “He’s your patient.” Uh oh. “Remind him he’s alive. Talk to him.” Alive?

“Mr. McLaughlin, my name is Chase. I’m a resident. I’ll be taking care of you today.” He felt his arms being lifted, something warm was placed in his palms. He tried to peer over at his hands through slitted eyes. “Can you squeeze for me Mr. McLaughlin?” He tried. He was poked and prodded and squeezed and turned. He didn’t feel pain, no. Just tired and weak. But he was alive. Thankfully, gloriously alive.


	5. SENIOR YEAR; NC STATE - NORTH CAROLINA & POST-UNDERGRAD, LOS ANGELES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett & Link, college years

Sentimentality saw their old arrangement resurrected during their senior year of college. Things felt more urgent now, an expiration date looming in the not-so-distant future. Per usual, Rhett instigated. Goading Link by using ‘but it’s our last  _ blank’ _ as a pretense to commemorate the moment with sex. An excuse to have Link in his bed. Link’s legs around his waist, or over his shoulder, or on all fours, or their favorite: Link on top of him riding Rhett’s thick, meaty cock, babbling - his hands on Rhett’s chest. Link controlling the tempo, the speed, the rounds. In the days before graduation they outdid themselves. Going multiple rounds before collapsing in a sweaty heap.

Back home after graduation saw them taking more frequent camping trips - wanting the forest to themselves, bellowing to shake the trees. After a few months, Link broached the topic again. This time on an extended camping trip that saw them hiking and pitching camps for five days. This time he did want a label, did want to show up at events with Rhett his boyfriend, did want to do cheesy couples things, wanted the whole package. Rhett just couldn’t give him that. What they had was good, why change it? What was Rhett afraid of?

“I told my momma … couple years back, Rhett. That I - uh- that I had feelings for you but you didn’t feel the same way. All she knows is that it’s a me thing. Look, I’ve figured my stuff out, Rhett. You already know how I feel. And I think I know how you feel,” he gave a rueful smile. “And if you think telling your parents is the hard part, mine already knows. I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life or give you some ultimatum. But this can’t happen like this anymore.” 

Rhett was stunned at that. He did love Link in every sense of the word. But he was tall… and loud… He already stuck out in any room, felt out of sorts in almost every space - in their small town, he didn’t want to have yet another thing making him different. He feared that’s not what Link wanted to hear. And he didn’t want Link to convince him otherwise. That’s how he felt, and that was it. So, maybe regrettably, he shut down. He iced Link out. Three days back down the other side of the mountain, a shuttle ride to Rhett’s car. Rhett dropped him at a train station and took some time for himself. 

That’s when this phase had started. Survival classes, longer solo camping sessions, fishing, hunting, knives and bows, arrows and nets. By giving his full focus to survival and sustenance on treacherous terrain or miles from the closest rescue, he could turn off his brain, and just flow with nature. As he honed the skills, he fell into wuwei, an almost trancelike meditative state where he was running on pure instinct and muscle memory. He liked the freedom and abject isolation; they reset him. Without the distraction of other people he breathed deeper, appreciated the first glint of sunlight over the mountains, the smell of rain on the breeze, the croaks and splash of frogs. Being in nature he felt connected to the infinite and soulful cycle of life. He longed for more time out here, and started to look for new challenges. After a stint in the woods, he would return to reality with a clearer head and a firmer lock on his own voice in his head. Restored, he felt he could be better to and for the people around him. 

  
They’d slowly drifted back together after that. A newer new normal with firmer boundaries and the decision to end it for real this time. They committed to longer relationships with their girlfriends, brought the girls around more, less-frequent solo outings with just the two of them - removing all temptation. They were still close as ever, but Rhett - usually the one instigating and initiating - kept to his word. They’d reached a happy medium. Link was moving on -  _ had _ moved on. Hell, he’d moved  _ in _ with Christy! They’d met each other’s parents, and were even starting to do more couples things without Rhett and Jessie. They were having real talks about a real future Link was actually excited about. 


	6. 10:00 PM THURS JUN 18, 2020; LOS ANGELES

Link didn’t have a plan. He couldn’t be in the house anymore, but he had nowhere to go. He couldn’t just escape to the forest like Rhett. He didn’t really have a happy place that didn’t involve other people. Rhett. Rhett was his happy place. The constant in his life. His champion, protector, cheerleader, first and every love. It felt intoxicating or… or … or stifling to have to be running away from that. He should be happy! Rhett was alive. Rhett had been close to death, and triumphantly skirted death’s door! There was relief, of course. But gnawing at him - more present and pressing than relief - was rage. It overrode his every other feeling and impulse. It was flames licking at every feeling of joy or happiness he allowed himself, shrinking his visual field - ringing it in red. He had to quiet his thoughts and the bababababababump of his heart or he would surely collapse. Keys. He could drive. Surely he could calm his brain enough to make it the mile to the Target parking lot. This time of night it would just be teenagers and maybe parents with their kids gathering last-minute supplies for projects due tomorrow. Right. Yes. Target. 

He threw his backpack into the backseat, clicked in, checked his mirrors, adjusted his seat, dusted the dashboard, plugged in his phone - the little rituals and traditions calming him, pulling his focus to them and shrinking the magnitude of Rhett. Freaking Rhett. Of course! Of course he did this on his time! Keeping Link just a little further away for all these years, his own feelings festering inside, spilling out when he thought there would be no consequences for him. What did he think, that he could be Orpheus, making his bargain and never looking back? But ha! The hubris; he was Icarus - tumbling back down to earth among the mortals. Not to mention Orpheus wasn't successful either, he looked back! He had to see - needed confirmation that Eurydice was behind him. Link was sure of one thing and one thing only: Rhett would look him in the eyes and say what he needed to say - not hide behind some camera. He would explain what the heck those last few years had been about, and why he’d broken up with Jessie and put his stuff in storage. Premeditated, much? If he hadn’t said it on his deathbed, what was the plan? When would he have said anything? When he won? Surely with Jessie upset at him, if he’d won it would be Link who appeared with the camera crew, right? Under the aegis of supporting a friend he would have gone to support Rhett, and then what, the bomb would have been dropped on Link on live television? And what about Christy? 

That was the issue with Rhett. He was so binary. Didn’t do half measures - it was either big or small, black or white, off or on. And when it was on, it was all the way on, on plus, speed: 10, volume: 100, all: in. And when it was off, it was dark and cold in comparison. Link had been on the other side of that door, didn’t want it closed but had come to terms with it. If he wanted it, he didn’t want it like this. Didn’t want to drag other people down just to have his happy ending. They needn’t’ve hurt Christy and Jessie. There were other ways of going about this that would have spared everyone a lot of heartbreak and pain. Christy was right: Rhett was selfish.


	7. 11:30 AM, THURS MAY 28, 2020; MURMANSK, RUSSIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett, Murmansk

Rhett was walking further now, not losing his breath so quickly. He’d put on muscle and more fat. He was in food heaven! He hadn’t eaten whatever he wanted whenever he wanted without care since his basketball days. And his back was in better shape too. He’d yet to see his family though… or Link. A winner hadn’t yet been announced; he was still under contract, still in the hospital in Murmansk. 

And there was the matter of his last night in the Arctic. His er-confession. He squeezed that tight-tight-tight in a box marked radioactive in a booby-trapped dank corner of his memory and had given the psychiatrist hell to access it. Surprising himself with how well he’d suppressed it and how little he truly remembered of that night until Dr. Perel played her ace card and showed him the raw footage. Unable to move him, she’d moved the mountain instead. 

He’d been rapt! If not for its vice-like grip on him, he was sure the shrink would have put him in a headlock and held his head focused on the screen like something out of Matilda. Fascinated, he watched the video the first couple times like a detached third-party observer hovering over himself watching himself watch himself. Speaking of boxes marked radioactive, he’d unloaded about a truck full into his camera that night. The content of his words didn’t surprise him - if he was honest with himself, he’d always known - but it was the number of words. Anytime Link had him backed into a corner, he could never muster more than a few. Stuttering and fumbling; snagged on a thought here or a plea there, trying to find the right string of words to express his fears, but undying love, without irreparable damage to their friendship. Looking at the tape, he was embarrassed for the guy - for himself. He watched it coolly, with a distant fascination, just letting it wash over him. Until the fourth time - when Dr. Perel began asking questions.

She squinted as the footage sped up, zooming to the correct spot for her to launch her inquiry. “Like right here, Rhett.” She said after she paused, his face coming back into focus on the screen. “When you say, ‘I told myself I would die for you. I would die for you.’ What do you mean?” Oh, why did he offer something so extreme as his death, when Link was merely - in comparison - asking for them to live a little? Bask in the moment a little. Not hide behind ‘trust me’s’ and just succumb to the joys and pleasures? He didn’t know. 

“Or like here when you said, ‘I know I’m a little early, we always said we’d reevaluate the friendship at 74, but I have to tell you this now or I never will.’ Why 74, Rhett? Why did you both have to be 74?” One of their running jokes was that Rhett was always planning how to get another 30 years out of their friendship. Link was a good sport, going along with Rhett’s latest scheme. He made them go vegetarian, suggested they cut out coffee, suggested they run or lift weights, got them hardcore into surfing and paddleboarding. They couldn’t focus just on the physical though so they started doing sudokus, the Times’ Crossword minis and midis, played Backgammon. He’d always wanted them to last for as long as they could. Was convinced he could trick them into forever if only they could cheat death. Maybe if they could get so old, one day it wouldn’t be worth it and the Grim Reaper would cross them off his list. One day they’d go high up in the mountains or deep into a field and lay there and talk for ages, under a huge tree, reminiscing over their life, the ups and downs. Drink a few beers, watch a few sunsets and a few sunrises. Hold each other close and just be themselves together, in their bubble, their little world of two. The flowers would overtake them and they’d gnarl and thicken into the trunk of the tree and spend another eternity together, watching the world. 

“Or here, you say: ‘We always joked that we never said ‘I love you’... But we dedicated our lives to each other so we didn’t have to. It made other people uncomfortable. It wrecked relationships but we couldn’t help it. We always knew, Link. You knew. And you knew I knew. And I would never say it. But I knew, Link. I did, I’m so sorry. I knew.” That point of the tape always got to him. He’d watch himself dissolve into a fit of sobs, his body heaving. His skeletal frame, gaunt and smeagolesque, wracked with sobs and gasping for air. His rabbit-skin blanket crushed in his palms as he tried to steady himself. It was a jarring display. He felt forlorn. A pit of despair and helplessness, heavy and warm, deep in his belly. 

He admitted to Dr. Perel that he cried himself to sleep for a week before that point. Slowly steeling his resolve: he would either die or win the money. He would accept no other option. The dangerous pact his competitive side made with the lovelorn, defeated part of him that conceded his cowardice but couldn’t move past it. He stood more than a foot over his competitors, had an igloo with clean ice he could melt over his fire for water. His stock of moose and rabbit meat, fish, and fat were elevated well above the reach of any predators. He had ample wood and a warm bear-den. He could hunker for weeks and outlast his competition who were hopefully starving and without a comparable cache of resources. Fighting to keep their calories up and their energy expenditures low - rationing their paltry fish and berries, little rats and rabbits, crying themselves to sleep each night as their skin sagged over their ribs and they notched new holes into their belts, layering up under their outer pants just so they could fit. 

When survival in the Artic became less of a challenge and the thrill waned, he’d picked a fight with the wrong wolverine. It had swiped at him, connecting with flesh on his thigh that would soon bubble up, the ends not connecting, sure to leave a jagged scar if he ever made it out alive, though if he didn’t, what use did he have for a leg anyway. He’d stalked it and finally, triumphantly killed it. Took its disgusting pelt for a trophy and left its meat for some other starving wretch. But the wound wasn’t healing. He’d learned about amputation and stump care specifically for this competition. He could do it. But as fast as his leg was going, his brain and his gut were deteriorating faster. He hadn’t planned on that. Wasn’t sure if it was the fish eggs, or the brain he’d eaten - knowing full well prions - misfolded proteins that could lead to neurodegeneration - were a risk in eating animal brain. But he’d needed those special nutrients - out in the tundra there were no fresh greens. To get brain food, he could go for the guts or the brain. He’d chosen the brain; a calculated risk - the only kind he allowed himself out here… or back home - and it hadn’t paid off. 

As he thought about it now - like he couldn’t think about it then - that’s what broke him. That calculated risks - going after that wolverine and eating the brain (even if the kill had been just for sport, not wholly hubris, but definitely mediated by pride and arrogance) - were what did him in. Calculated risks nearly killed him. The thought broke him. He’d walked away from the only other risk that would have truly been worth it - twice. Twice he’d said no. Twice he’d done the math and found the proposition lacking; the risk not worth the reward. Though it was the ultimate reward. That’s when he lost it. The one thing he wanted - truly wanted - he couldn’t have so he would die with the memories, or win enough to start over somewhere else. It wasn’t for the money or the trophy, this had become a means to an end. 

He thought the reason he always crawled back, resurrected their friendship with tighter boundaries that he would ultimately cross - was out of some waylaid masochism. Or for the dizzying toxicity of the cognitive dissonance- the knowing and the disavowal. But he was simpler than that. He’d given himself too much credit. He went back because it felt powerful and erotic beyond measure to know that though he was giving everything of himself to someone, they still wanted more. And he controlled that. He controlled how much of the extra sauce, of the whipped cream, of the cherry he meted out. And Link always hungrily lapped up his portion. Some of the best nights were when he would only give a little, and Link would try to take a little more. He told himself their friendship was the one constant in their lives. The one thing that was sure, destined. That no matter how bad they fucked it up, they could still repair it. It wasn’t fragile. And that’s what made it fun. Except Link didn’t think in 0s and 1s like he did. Heck, sometimes he didn’t even think. And that’s why he - Rhett - could never fully succumb to it. Because they needed one of them sober and awake enough to pull them back out. So he was Wonka and Link was Veruca and Augustus and Mike. Ever on the verge of meeting his end in delightfully sinful ways, wanting more of what he couldn’t have.


	8. 10:15 PM THURS JUN 18, 2020; LOS ANGELES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka midnight "plane" going anywhere

Link sat in the parking lot - stuffing errant items like a hoodie and the NC state towel he used at the gym into his backpack. A little nugget of a plan lodged in his brain. He knew he had to do it. Knew he wanted the answers but didn’t know the first thing about getting where he needed to be. He googled ‘how to get to the arctic.’ The first hit said the most common route was through Murmansk, Russia. He did some digging on ALONE boards to confirm. The show stationed competitors there there pre-season and when they tapped out. The Canadians had an outpost, and a hospital. Rhett had to be there. 

He found a flight from LAX to Murmansk with stopovers in Amsterdam and Moscow. Leaving at 11:59 pm. He had to be on it. He’d figure out the clothing situation when he landed. But for now, his priority was getting there. He stowed his car in long term parking, and readied himself for 24 hours of travel.. He’d arrive in Murmansk 7am local time on Saturday.


	9. THURS JUN 04, 2020; MURMANSK, RUSSIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett, Murmansk

Rhett opened up to Dr. Perel fully after a couple weeks in the hospital. By then, the pain in his leg was only a faint memory. He was stronger now, managing to walk without the cane if he did so slowly, slightly favoring his right leg. He was out of the hospital and back in the hotel, biding his time with the other losers getting their weight up and lounging by the pool. Their big talk of living one with nature hollow in front of the free bar and resplendent buffet. A few of them still had appointments with Dr. Perel - the show therapist. He’d dropped the biggest bomb on tape - by far - but the others had some doozies of their own. And then there was the matter of failing to win a million dollars. They were all working through something.

“You both created this transactional arrangement. You agree?”

“Yeah. I agree. To avoid calling it what it was. The code was a no-brainer for us. We always had some kind of code, even as kids. This didn’t feel any different.”

“But your code wasn’t just to hide what you were doing from other people? Would you say?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“What do I mean?” 

Rhett scratched his head, rolled his neck, licked his lips - little tics to stimulate himself and physically distract him from the intensity of the moment. “Yeah, I guess in coding it we hid from it. Never said ‘sex’ or anything - it was always you know, ‘give me a hand’ or ‘taste this for me.’ We thought they were clever.” He chuckled, halfheartedly. 

“Sure.” She gave him that. “Unless you were arguing about it did you ever acknowledge what you were doing? Ever say the words? Or were you completely intellectually removed from it when it was ‘good?’” She hooked quotes around her last word. 

He nodded, no. 

“Can you say it now?”

A deep breath. He could. “I can say it. It was sex…” He trailed a circle around his eye with his pointer finger. “I mean, I really hate this expression, but often we were - you know - making love. Mostly it was sex. Lots and lots of sex.”

At another session she pushed him further. Letting him meander and pulling him back to focus with her question. “You like holding the reins. Would you agree?”

“Um. Not in a controlling way.” He countered. 

“Ah ah, holding the reins  _ is _ control. You are steering. You are leading the horses. The thunder is theirs but you control where it strikes. Like Zeus, yes.” She smiled. “And of course, it can be subtle. The best control people have over others is usually subtle. Conditioning someone involves giving them subtle cues, overt feedback - acceptance, rejection, praise, withholding praise, punishment - in covert packages. You created ‘trust me’ to nudge. You hid the real question inside a tenet of your friendship. You demanded and expected blind trust. You used it more than Link, correct?” She paused, waiting for him to process. Waiting for his reaction - a nod - and she continued. “You both staked trust as the ultimate expression of your bond. You would invoke it, and not let the other say ‘no.’ Because that would be an invalidation of your entire friendship. It was forcing the other to say ‘I don’t trust you.’ And you both refused to admit mistrust, correct? As that would mean the entire thing would crumble, no?”

Rhett sat with that for a long time. 


	10. 07:00 AM SAT 06/20/2020; MURMANSK, RUSSIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link, Murmansk

Despite much effort, Link had only gotten so far with the Russian audio resources he’d downloaded on his phone before his flights. When his mind wasn’t going in circles about Rhett, he’d slept fitfully. Landing in Murmansk, he was relieved to see signs in English. For every Russian flag he passed, there was a Canadian one, Canadian brands, he even passed a little kiosk selling Canadian maple syrup and other treats. Throughout the journey he’d ducked into promising stores in airports and for his effort he’d found a suitcase, voltage converters, a few pairs of joggers, long sleeve tees, boots, thick socks, a down coat, a hat-scarf-glove combo pack, underwear and a mini-toiletry kit. He found a restroom in the Murmansk airport. He snagged the handicapped stall and took a birdbath in the sink, changed into his new gear and headed for the hospital.

The ALIVE message board could only speculate which of the hotels nearest the Canadian hospital would house the contestants. Link’s plan was to go to the hospital and flat out ask if a man fitting Rhett’s description was still there. That he was his lifelong best friend - he had the pictures to prove it! If that failed, he would ask which hotel was the best. Betting his money that a show that awarded contestants a million dollars would spring for the fanciest hotel. His plan yielded two promising answers. 1. A super tall man with long strawberry blonde hair and a long beard had been at the hospital, but had been discharged. The clerk remembered because he’d been too long for the wheelchair and they’d laughed together. So Rhett was in good spirits, that was promising. 2. The best hotel in the Canadian district, he was told, was the Hilton Murmansk Niagara. 

Though the hotel concierge would not tell him if there was a guest who met his description, after Link explained the situation he was given helpful hints. The 23rd floor was restricted for a show that was being filmed in the Arctic - wink. He would be in a room on the 24th floor. His keycard had access to all common areas, including the pool which was popular with 23rd floor guests - wink. They usually went down around 6:30pm - wink. The only snag was that he was too early to check-in. He had a few hours to kill before he could be an official guest of the hotel, though his room was now reserved. He stowed his bag with the concierge with recommendations of restaurants and other activities he could do to kill the time.


	11. THURS JUN 18, 2020 - MURMANSK RUSSIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett, Murmansk

When he’d started the show, he’d been allowed one contact. One person who would sign an NDA, and could be apprised of his progress, and if he tapped out, he could use his assigned phone to contact them. His one person had been his mother. But though she received updates about him from the producers, Rhett did not answer her calls. After he’d regained his wits in the hospital, he’d called to let her know he was fine, that he would work through some things and call her back when he was ready to talk. She’d given him a week, then her calls came through everyday, like clockwork. 7:30pm each day. She would be just sitting down to lunch. He would be returning to his room from the pool to take a quick shower, and eat dinner with some of his fellow losers. 

He didn’t want to talk to her until he knew what he wanted to say to Link. He and Dr. Perel were working on a letter to him. One that he could mail if he chose, but he would prefer to say those words to Link, in-person, if given the chance. 

The losers were in good spirits, five contestants were left and there were med checks planned for tomorrow if the weather permitted. A storm was brewing and the chopper wouldn’t fly if they couldn’t navigate to the three remaining sites safely. Each was far flung and landing was treacherous even on a good day. Med checks meant weigh-ins and psych evals. If a contestant had lost too much weight, that could mean issues for their muscles and kidneys. They would be pulled. Med check day meant more time in the competition for some, a mandatory tap-out for others.

His tap-out episode would be airing tonight in the States. His mother would see it. Link would see it. His fellow crew would gather in someone’s room with snacks and drinks to watch it around noon local time when it re-aired. He planned to sit this one out. Rhett had an early appointment with Dr. Perel the next day, so he didn’t drink with the crew. He wanted a clear mind to finish the draft of his letter ahead of the appointment. He stayed up well into the night, missing his alarm, waking with enough time for a bird bath and to grab a lobby muffin on his way out. A producer drove him to his appointment in silence.


	12. SAT 06/20/2020; MURMANSK RUSSIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link, Murmansk

Link opted to try the first restaurant on the list - Tundra Grill and Bar - and the reindeer farm tour. Over surf-and-turf and a beer, he mused about the weeks leading up to Rhett’s competition. He’d accompanied Rhett to the gym, and to the pool, to the gun range and even an axe-throwing class. Some things like woodworking, and his stints in the forest did not excite Link. Seeing Rhett off at his send-off party the day before his flight, he hadn’t thought there was anything left unspoken between them. He knew the competition had the chance of being perilous, but hadn’t entertained death as even a remote risk for Rhett. It was  _ Rhett _ for crying out loud! 

He still couldn’t bring himself to finish the episode, but he read the reviews. Wolverine slash and some janky meat had put Rhett out of commission. A fever and some brain stuff. Rhett had made it through the night and when he’d awoken the next morning he’d tapped out. His situation really had been bleak enough to record his last will and testament: Once winter set in, the rescue choppers didn’t fly at night. After Rhett recorded his last video his options were to die in his sleep, or fight for his life until morning. 

Link couldn’t imagine it. Being forced to either succumb to death or fight for life with every fiber of his being. The riskiest thing he did these days was indoor rock climbing. His proclivities didn’t ever really expose him to the possibility of death. He liked pushing limits and feeling his body accomplish new things, but death was so final, so finite… or was it infinite - he didn’t like thinking about it. He pulled his focus back to the lobster and steak on his plate. 


	13. FRI 06/19/2020; MURMANSK, RUSSIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett, Murmansk

The letter was written. Dr. Perel would not offer her seal of approval - saying this was something Rhett had to do for himself, with her guidance - but she was proud of him. This would be their last session. This letter was his capstone. She referred him to someone in the states, with a strong recommendation to continue therapy. As more contestants cycled off the show in acute crisis, she needed more time to focus on them. He was stable, and had the vocabulary and scaffolding to explore some things for himself. He committed to completing the exercises in the workbook she gave him, and when he finally returned to the states, she knew he’d like her guy. They hugged goodbye. 

Back in his hotel room, Rhett napped. Woke up around noon and ordered room service. He did a bit of yoga and deep breathing exercises to still his nerves. He was ready to call his mother. Today. He set a mental note to make the call at 1:30 pm - that would be 6:30 am in North Carolina. Diane would be just waking up, padding down to the kitchen to start coffee. Taking her mug and mason jar of overnight oats with a newspaper tucked under her elbow to the garden. A slow start to the morning. If Rhett timed it right, the phone would ring just as her toes met the lip of her slippers. 

“Rhett, baby. Is that you?” Her morning voice was thick, but so familiar. 

“Hi momma.”

“Hi baby.” He could hear the anguish and relief in her voice, though she tried to hide it. How many times in his life had he called her at some oddball hour, breaking her heart with the news of some escapade gone awry? Met with that same voice, thick with pain and relief. Diane on the other end, knowing that if she got the call, at least he was alive. 

“Hi momma. Can we talk?”

“Yes, hun. You know I need my coffee first.” 

Rhett smiled, the sounds of her moving through his childhood home calming. He closed his eyes and could see her shuffling out to the stairs, down, into the kitchen. Heard the beeps as she selected her coffee preferences on the “fancy machine” he’d gotten them a couple Christmases ago. “What is it this morning, momma?”

“I’m thinking machiato.” She smiled. 

He heard the ding of the toaster, and the light crunch of bread under the knife smearing peanut butter over an English muffin. The ting of the glass under her ring as she pulled her oatmeal jar from the fridge. He heard her arranging her cutlery on her breakfast tray. The one Jessie’d seen in an antiques store one lazy Sunday afternoon and thought instantly of Diane. 

He heard the scrape of the chair. Her deep breath as she settled in, and took a few sips of her coffee. 

“Rhett. Baby. You didn’t have to hold that inside for so long.” She spoke slowly and sincerely. “Your father and I would have thought no different of you. And you know Sue never wants anything but happiness for Link. And for you... In these four walls, you could have told me and your father you wanted to be anything, and we’d have supported you. I needed you to know that first thing, baby. Before we say anything else to each other.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. He’d tried many times to get out of basketball. He liked it, sure, was good at it, but didn’t want it to be his whole life. He also wasn’t sure if Engineering was his calling. He hadn’t wanted to do anything with Link he’d have to explain to someone else - as if needing their approval or their grace. If he’d needed to make the choice - between his parents and Link - he would have chosen Link. But he hadn’t wanted to make it. So he never actually engaged in the conversation beyond his comfort zone. As much as he’d been afraid of Link breaking his heart, he was more afraid of such pain coming from his parents - so he hadn’t given them the chance to prove themselves either way. 

When his father awoke, he joined the pair and they all talked for a few hours. His parents went about their day - his father grading papers, his mother filling orders from her online shop - as he told them what it had been like for him these past few months, and the couple years since college. Though he felt free and relieved, they always returned to that nagging point about how in making the declaration on television he’d made the decision for Link. It was obvious the show only aired snips and snatches of the footage, and that was between him and Link, he did have to acknowledge that he’d outed Link to the world, and that whenever they were able to discuss it, he’d have to own that error, and not try to justify it. He’d discussed that with Dr. Perel as well. He would call Link the minute his contract ended. The call would be to apologize and to let Link say whatever he needed to. He didn’t mention the Link letter to his parents. But the letter was for all the things he hadn't said over the years, but wished he did. They parted on that note, with promises to speak more soon. 

He spent the rest of the day in his room, members of the crew stopping by to check on him - snuggling and talking. Others called to check in on him and to applaud his bravery. They knew it had gotten bad for him out there but whew, not that bad! Though he appreciated the company, the one person he wanted to talk this through with was off-limits. 

The crew respected his wishes not to party tonight. Friday nights the crew and producers usually went bar-hopping in the Canadian sector. Dinner at a restaurant and their bar tab were picked up by the show. This part wasn’t filmed though until the very last night, after the winner was returned. He wasn’t obligated to attend until that night, and tonight he couldn’t bring himself to party. He caught the tail-end of Office Space on a local channel and turned in early for the night.


	14. 06:30 PM SAT 06/20/2020; MURMANSK, RUSSIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link, Murmansk

Link’s tour group for the reindeer farm were a chatty bunch of Australians. He was grateful for the distraction and actually had fun on the sleds and snowmobiling. He caught an Uber back to the city center and ghosted through Murmansk for an hour or so until he found a bench by the ‘Monument to Waiting Woman.’ He lamented how in breaking up with Jessie right before his trip, Rhett had probably cursed himself. Legend had it that if a sailor went to sea and there was no woman waiting for him to return, that he would likely not return. The statue had been commissioned to await all sailors who set out to sea. Had Rhett visited her? Given her an offering? Implored her to wait for him on Jessie’s behalf? On Link’s behalf? 

Link opted to walk back to the hotel. Winding through the streets, taking pictures of storefronts, statues and graffitti as he went along. The concierge smiled when he saw him again. Brandishing his room key, luggage and well-wishes. He ordered room service and took a quick, hot shower while he waited. He picked at the burger and fries before setting his alarm for 6:15 and shutting his eyes for a nap. 

6:30pm came and once again Link was ill-equipped for the task at hand. What would he say if he saw Rhett? He grabbed his NC State towel, and changed into the swim trunks he’d purchased from the hotel store. Red of course - he couldn’t risk offending the Canadians or the Russians.


	15. 06:40 PM SAT 06/20/2020; MURMANSK, RUSSIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett & Link

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _First, when I was apart from you, this word did not exist, nor any other. Second, whatever I was looking for was always you. Third, why did I ever learn to count to three? - Rumi_

Some relationships had formed among the losers. They were in limbo for weeks on end and their first priority was to recover after weeks braving the elements. Then they were left to their glut. Rhett had been in a cesspool of his own feelings for so long it felt like emerging from a blank of grey clouds up into clear, blue sky. His release from Dr. Perel’s care, a clean bill of health, and the conversation with his parents were like weights off his shoulders. As much as he wanted to rejoice, he couldn’t. He was drifting along on his back in the shallow end of the pool when he heard a flurry of giggles and chatter. He lowered his feet in the water, dipping his head under to slick his hair down as he came up. 

“What’d I miss?” He asked, wading toward the others. 

“Hotty with a body came in. He threw his towel on a chair and dove in. Rawr” 

Rhett’s eyes went to the towel, not the hottie. A red towel emblazoned with the word WOLFPACK in white. “Wolfpack, huh.” Curious. Couldn’t be NC State Wolfpack. What were the odds? 

The swimmer was doing some serious laps and the crew couldn’t get a good look at him, so they went back to their chatter and Rhett flipped back over onto his back. “Tap me when you get a visual.” He whispered. 

The tap came and Rhett gulped water. He knew that tattoo. Had the same one on his outer thigh. The tattoo, the towel, “Link!” He yelled. He thought about wading over to the wall on the shallow end, and climbing out but swimming over to Link at the other end of the pool would be faster. “Link.” He panted when he reached the other wall. He looked up at Link who was still rooted where he stood, arm still outstretched for his towel. 

“Rhett?” Link’s smile weary though it was growing by the second. “Rhett!” He exclaimed. 

Rhett hoisted himself out of the pool. 

“Oh my god!” Heather shrieked. “That’s Link!” The crew cheered. 

Rhett enveloped Link in a hug. Link melted into him, unsuccessfully stifling sobs. “Rhett… what the heck!?” He breathed into his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” Rhett wept into Link’s hair. They stayed in their embrace, apologizing, clutching each other. 

“Get a room!” Someone chided them from the pool, the rest of the crew erupting into giggles, breaking their spell. They gathered their towels and headed for the elevator, Rhett imploring the losers over his shoulder not to rat on him to production. 

Once in the hall they split up and took different elevators. Rhett went to his room for a quick shower and changed into joggers and a hoodie. Link returned to his own room to do the same. Rhett took the stairs up to Link’s room. Link let him in after one knock and pushed him down onto the couch, while he sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for Rhett to find his words. 

“Link.” Rhett willed himself to meet Link’s gaze and hold it for as long as he could. “You know that feeling when you’re in bed, dozing, aware that you’re drifting off, you’re nowhere near the edge of the bed but you get this overwhelming feeling like you’re falling?” Link gave him an encouraging half smile and nodded. “That’s how it felt. That jerk. Like I was actually, viscerally on the cusp of something and I had to make a decision to stay conscious or plunge into the dream. Except with waaaaayyyyy more anxiety. Pure fight mode. But also like my mind was wiped. Words would fail me. Like actually betray me. Zirp, gone. You would ask me questions, you know, and I had like 50 answers, but none of them came out!” 

Link reached for him but Rhett shook his head. He wanted to just think for a minute. He didn’t want comfort. “I think I wanted to tell you I wasn’t worth it, that we couldn’t upend our lives for this, that we’d gotten as good as we could get and we should appreciate it. I think I felt I had to be the sense for both of us. But I wanted it too, and I usually ended up fucking it all up. It’s not that I didn’t love you in that way... I did - I do. Still. I just… um, I just didn’t want to do things I had to explain to anybody. You know? I feel like people who aren’t like others are always having to explain themselves, to elbow themselves in, to make room, to prove their worth, like they belong. They have to be okay with not belonging and make space when none will make room for them, make their own space. You know? Fuck that. I didn’t want to spend all my time begging or apologizing or explaining or asking or demanding. Fuck that! So it was just easier to get lost in it a little and then pull myself out. For it to be temporary.” He paused, he wasn’t sure if he was making sense, if he was communicating it properly. All those weeks in therapy to prepare him for such a moment were a jumble in his head, all the things he’d said to Dr. Perel, the cache of statements he’d collected - where were they now?

“Um… but you’re not temporary, Link! And I got it all wrong! I could tell people to fuck off! Or I could just be my own proud self and tell people to respect me. Or cut people off who didn’t get it, who refused to get it. I gave the hypotheticals too much power! I gave the hypotheticals so much of my time and my life, man. And you! You said fuck it. You told Sue! That must have been hard. And we never talked about it more. There’s a part of your life I closed myself off from! We share everything! But I drew the line there? I put conditions on us. Who left me in charge!?”

Link chuckled at that, and quirked an eyebrow up, but didn’t move to speak. “Right!” Rhett pointed at him. “Who the fuck said I was in charge! I did that! I was in over my head and instead of us figuring it out with you, I kept it all inside... made it complicated and muddy. And Jessie and Christy-” Link shook his head ‘no.’ “Right, yeah…”

Rhett leaned back in the sofa, let his head rest against the overstuffed cushion. He thought about what he wanted to say. Then leaned forward, resuming eye contact with Link, his elbows on his thighs. “I hit a wall, man. I was out there, as far away as I could physically get and all I could think about was you, us. It fucked me up, man. I got in my head and I made some bad decisions, but I had to get it out. At the end of that night - the day of my party - Jessie and I were sitting talking and I said ‘I think I’m in love with Link and we shouldn’t be together anymore.’ The show was gonna pay rent for however many months and then the lease would be up - as clean a break as anyone could ever get. I didn’t think I’d really win going in - I thought I could survive a long time if I was intentional and smart in my actions. It was only around week four or so that I thought I could really win, looking around at everything I’d built and stocked. So before the show when I had I to put in all my contacts and who my finale guest would be if I won, I just put my dad. You were my surprise reunion guest if I was Top 3 and I would figure the rest out when I got back. On the flipside, I didn’t think I’d die out there either, not till that last week… How much did you see?”

Link cleared his throat, “Uh, Christy and I watched til your tap-out episode. I fell asleep cuz it was on later than usual, I think I saw most of the recap. She woke me up - I don’t know - at the end of your bit. I haven’t seen it, I can’t watch it - don’t think I ever will. She couldn’t find the remote to rewind it, we fought about that, and then… about other things…” Link gave a shy smile. “She once asked about us and I told her water under the bridge. After seeing what she saw, I guess, she felt betrayed. Freakin’ Jessie called - said y’all had broken up - first I’d heard of that! Christy asked if I knew. I grabbed sneakers and my backpack and passport and some cash and I was on the first plane out here. I didn’t want a phone call or a letter or for your mom to call me - no intermediaries - I wanted to look you in the eye and for you to look me in the eye and tell me where we go from here.”

“I don’t know, bo.’ Can you just hold me? Can I hold you?” 

Link smiled, uncurled his legs and scooted up the bed, under the covers and beckoned for Rhett to join him. 

Rhett stood, took the envelope with the letter out of his pocket and placed it on the nightstand, “That’s for you… when you want to read it.” 

Link nodded, pulling Rhett into a hug under the covers. He kissed Rhett’s forehead. “I love you too.”

….  
The letter: 

Bo, I’m sorry. Sorry for almost dying on you. Sorry for all the distance, sorry for getting into something big we couldn’t do together. I broke the oath. 

I’m sorry again - one more time. For not having the courage to tell you all this face to face. Sorry I said it to everyone in the world first before telling you: I love you. All I do is read and swim to fill the days now, so I’ll let this guy tell you in words better than I ever could. Henry, take it away: 

“Beloved, I have to adore the earth:  
The wind must have heard your voice once. It echoes and sings like you.  
The soil must have tasted you once. It is laden with your scent.  
The trees honor you in gold and blush when you pass.  
I know why the north country is frozen. It has been trying to preserve your memory.  
I know why the desert burns with fever. It has wept too long without you.  
On hands and knees, the ocean begs up the beach, and falls at your feet.  
I have to adore the mirror of the earth.  
You have taught her well how to be beautiful.”  
Henry Dumas, Love Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Beginnings are always ripe with possibilities, for they hold the promise of completion. Through love we imagine a new way of being. You see me as I’ve never seen myself. You airbrush my imperfections, and I like what you see. With you, and through you, I will become that which I long to be. I will become whole. Being chosen by the one you chose is one of the glories of falling in love. It generates a feeling of intense personal importance. I matter. You confirm my significance.” ― Esther Perel, Mating in Captivity: Reconciling the Erotic and the Domestic
> 
> “And if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure…  
> For already have I suffered full much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and war.  
> Let this be added to the tale of those.” - Homer, The Odyssey
> 
> “You'll never get anywhere if you go about what-iffing like that.” - Roald Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
> 
> Esther Perel Key - passages from mating in captivity to help me write her therapeutic character  
> \- Yet sexuality and emotional intimacy are two separate languages. I would like to restore the body to its rightful prominent place in discussions about couples and eroticism.  
> \- The body often contains emotional truths that words can too easily gloss over. The very dynamics that are a source of conflict in a relationship—particularly those pertaining to power, control, dependency, and vulnerability—often become desirable when experienced through the body and eroticized.  
> \- Sex becomes both a way to illuminate conflicts and confusion around intimacy and desire and a way to begin to heal these destructive splits.  
> \- I was particularly sensitive to the conversations about child and adolescent sexuality because it is in messages to children that societies most reveals their values, goals, incentives, prohibitions.  
> \- I see people who are such good friends that they cannot sustain being lovers.  
> \- I see others who believe that intimacy means knowing everything about each other. They abdicate any sense of separateness, then are left wondering where the mystery has gone... I see people so ashamed of their sexuality that they spare the one they love the ordeal.  
> \- I wonder if we can preserve a sense of the poetic, of what Octavio Paz calls the double flame of love and eroticism.  
> \- Yet some of us defend against the uncertainties of love with such zeal that we cut ourselves off from its richness.  
> \- Given the transient nature of life, given its ceaseless flux, there is more than a hint of arrogance in the assumption that we can make our relationships permanent, and that security can actually be fixed.  
> -“So [in your opinion] relationships are about what you lose, not what you gain?” I ask….


End file.
